


Catch Me if I Fall

by girlwithaplan



Category: Prospect (2018)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwithaplan/pseuds/girlwithaplan
Summary: You and Ezra have an argument that leads you to reveal more of your past to him.
Relationships: Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Catch Me if I Fall

You really, royally fucked up this time. Sure, the two of you have had disagreements, maybe even argued once or twice but you’ve never  _ fought _ with Ezra until today. Both of you can be stubborn, both of you are quick-witted, but usually you strike a balance that works for the both of you and you’re not often upset about the same thing at the same time. 

Flashes of what you’d said in the heat of the moment burn you up with so much guilt you feel like you could be sick, but you know you need to think through it before you approach him. And for his part, Ezra is giving you space (or maybe taking it for himself) and he’s quiet. Silent, even. He’s not said a word to you since you arrived back at your tent and that was nearly 2 hours ago. 

Eyes closed, you take a breath and make yourself remember the details. What had started this whole row between you and the man you loved? 

…

It was a clear, sunny, hot day on the current planet you were harvesting on. The atmosphere was thick and muggy, making your suits feel even more constricting than usual. But there was Aurelac here, and neither of you wanted to pass up the opportunity for a good pay day. 

“Perhaps, my sweet drop of sunlight,” Ezra had said that morning as the two of you walked to the dig site, “we may procure enough gems to take some time away from working.” 

“It would be nice,” you agree, “to be somewhere we didn’t have to wear these suits all the time.” 

Ezra smiles at you and you feel him tug your sleeve with his hand. You stop and look at him and he says, 

“Forgive me for being so forward so early in this day, but I would very much enjoy access to your radiant skin more often than once or twice daily. It’s simply not enough time for me to show my appreciation for your supple beauty.” 

You’d be embarrassed by his declaration if he hadn’t already made you come twice this morning before the sun was even in the sky. Still, you feel yourself get hot in the suit and you carefully thump the plexiglas window of your helmet against his before you say, 

“I forgive you if you forgive me for saying that I would probably die from happiness if I could kiss you whenever I felt like it.” 

Ezra shakes his head and says between his light, airy laughs, 

“I think you might need to be living and breathing to kiss me, but I understand the drama of your sentiment.” You move back and resume walking, but not before you flick his helmet with your fingers and tell him playfully, 

“I am not dramatic!” 

His laugh echoes through your radio again and you feel so cozy in the sound. You wish you could wrap his laugh around you and snuggle into it for awhile. Ezra keeps talking, as you’re used to, 

“I did not mean to offend, moonbeam, I simply wish to keep your beating heart close to mine for as long as you’ll have my weary old bones.” 

You think for a second before you respond, steadfastly keeping your gaze in front so you don’t laugh, 

“Didn’t seem so weary when you woke me up this morning.” Ezra’s not expecting that and he chokes on his next word, laughing louder in your ear before he exclaims, 

“You can't fault me! Not when you look so angelic in your sleep that I could not wait a second longer to worship at your altar before we started our day. I must offer my sacrifice to whatever deity saw fit to send you into my bed each night or I fear you might slip away.” 

You’ve arrived at the site now and you set your tool box down before you turn and look at Ezra, unable to help the soft smile on your face when you remind him,

“I’m not going anywhere, Ezra, you know that I love you.” His answering smile is beaming, he might call you sunshine but his grin could light up the galaxy. He sets his own gear down and reaches down to squeeze your hand and tell you, 

“And you will never be rid of me if you keep saying that because I am full to the brim with love for you.” You squeeze his hand back as best as you can through the thick gloves you both wear before you set to work. Ezra has moved on to a story about a prior harvest and you listen as attentively as you can while you prepare for the job you need to do. 

The day heats up quickly and this particular harvest is proving to be more difficult than either of you anticipated. Your first 3 pulls go smoothly but very slowly. The knife you wield slices perfectly and Ezra is able to clean them off without much fuss. The fourth one, however, slips from your grasp and you watch dumbstruck as it sizzles into nothing. You glance at Ezra and he looks confused at your blunder but doesn’t bring attention to it. Mistakes happen. You click off your radio for a second and make yourself take deep breaths so Ezra can’t hear. A painful, scared feeling grips your chest and you wish you could rip the damn helmet off and breathe. You hear your radio click back on and Ezra says, 

“Are you okay?” 

He’s looking right at you with his eyebrows raised and you know he’s not mad at you but you feel ashamed anyway. 

“I just need a minute.” He looks at you curiously but nods, stepping away from you to grab another bottle of solution. You blink up at the sky and remind yourself that Ezra isn’t  _ him _ , he’s not going to do anything to you for messing up. Swallowing hard, you nod to yourself that you’ve got it and you can go back to working. 

Hurriedly, you dig out another gem and start cutting. You hear Ezra say carefully, like he doesn’t want to upset you,

“We can take a break if you want, it’s unbearably hot today, sunflower.” You shake your head and keep moving, determined to prove your usefulness. 

You don’t see it, but Ezra is frowning at the back of your head, not sure what to make of your sudden frantic behavior. He watches as you inevitably drop another gem and your whole body seems to freeze up. He gives you a few seconds but when you don’t move or respond, he reaches out to touch your suit and you flinch so violently at the contact that you trip over the tube connecting your suits and fall hard on your ass in the dirt. 

He can hear your short, panicked breaths over the radio and he cannot figure out what the hell is happening, so he asks, 

“What’s going on?” And puts his hands on his hips, looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. You glare up at him, suddenly angry at yourself but redirecting it at him for asking you about it, 

“I’m fucking  _ fine _ , Ezra.” It comes out sharp and a touch venomous. Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the loss of two large gems, but Ezra feels his hackles rising to meet yours before he can stop himself. He just wants to help and your snapping at him is not something he can let go in the moment, so he retorts, 

“Bullshit, nothing’s wrong! You dropped two gems and when I touched you, you fell over like you were scared of me. What the fuck is wrong?” he throws his hands up in frustration and you spit back without thinking, 

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” 

“No, it’s not okay if it affects our work!” 

The two of you are yelling now, though there’s no need for it with the radios. You want to stop, you want to explain but the shame rolls through you again and it’s too much to take. You can’t tell him, you just can’t. What if he thought you were weak or stupid or being dramatic? You couldn’t take that rejection from him so you say, trying to keep your voice even,

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

He looks as exasperated as you feel when he pleads, 

“Just try to explain and I’ll try to understand. You haven’t given me the chance!” 

You know he’s right and you know you’re not being fair. The hurt you thought you’d dealt with is still raw and you’ve just scratched off the scab and exposed your bleeding soul to the air. It stings and you just want it to stop. 

But you won’t be able to live with yourself if he looks at you differently, if he treats you differently. You love the way he is with you now and your trauma might make him shudder, turn away from you. So you say something that you know will cut him to the quick, 

“I just can’t, Ezra. I can’t do it.”

His face hardens and he stares at you before he says, 

“Okay.” 

You’re so surprised that he doesn’t argue with you that you actually meet his gaze. He’s pissed. Slowly, you get to your feet and he holds out the knife that you dropped when you fell. 

“If we can get 3 more, that’ll be enough for now. Can you do that?” Ezra asks, his hand still holding onto the knife. You nod, he releases the tool into your hands, and that’s the last thing he says to you for a while. 

Once the gems are harvested, and it takes another long hour with the way your helmet keeps fogging up from your sweat, Ezra packs up the case and snaps it shut before handing it to you. He takes off toward your camp without looking back and you follow, feeling like all your limbs are dead weight. The walk is slower than this morning, the heat just too oppressive for anything else. 

The tent finally comes into view and the two of you enter and immediately remove your helmets to breathe deeply for the first time all day. Carefully, you bend down to slide the case under the table on your left, in the hiding place Ezra had made for your work. He disconnects your air filters and grabs water out of your small supply. He throws back half the canteen and hands it to you. You drink the rest while he mops his forehead with one of the rags you keep by entrance for that purpose. Without a word, he hooks his helmet back to his air filter, grabs his pen and notebook, and exits the tent again. 

You slowly strip out of your suit and lay down on the floor, not wanting to get the bed dirty with your sweat. You’re shaking now from the adrenaline rushing out of your body after the day you’ve had. You’ve been unnecessarily mean to Ezra—it’s not his fault you didn’t tell him about how you learned to harvest, how you became so good. Hot tears roll down your cheeks and you don’t bother wiping them away. You’re mad at yourself and you wish you could take it all back, but now Ezra isn’t even talking to you. Hell, he’s not even in the tent. You’re so exhausted and overwhelmed that you just shut your eyes, sniffling, and let sleep take you down.

…

When you wake, the sun is setting. You can see it through the tent flaps. Ezra’s still not back, but you’ve had time now to rest and think and so you climb back into your suit, strap into your air filter, and step out, prepared to go look for him. 

What you’re not prepared for though, is that he’s right outside, barely 30 feet from the tent. He’s sitting under a tree, facing your makeshift dwelling. His head shoots up when you start to walk towards him, but he makes no move to stand up. Your heart feels a little lighter knowing he was close by even if he was still angry with you.  _ He didn’t leave.  _

You take a seat next to his outstretched legs and fiddle with your radio until you can hear him sigh. He’s looking at you expectantly and you know you owe him an explanation for your behavior. Your hands twist in your lap nervously, but you start, 

“I don’t really know how to brace you for what I’m about to tell you, so I’m just going to say it as plainly as I can, okay?” 

Ezra nods and sets his notebook aside, meeting your eyes and motioning for you to continue, 

“There’s a reason I freaked out on you today and yelled at you and I feel so awful that I did. Because I love you and you don’t deserve that.” You swallow the lump in your throat and you can hear him breathing, slow and steady, so you barrel ahead, 

“My stepdad taught me how to dig for Aurelac when I was 16 or 17, right before the first big run on the Green. I don’t remember the exact day. My mom was really sick and we didn’t have any money, so that’s why she married him I guess. He didn’t have any kids so I had to help him out.” 

Ezra nods when you glance up at him, expression still unchanged. You take a second to breathe in and out. No one knows about this but you. But you can trust Ezra, you have trusted him with your life. And he loves you. And you hope that’s enough. 

“The first few weeks were okay, but I was a nervous kid so I was really shaky with the knife. One day we were out harvesting and I messed it up like I did today. Before I could even turn around, my stepdad yanked the knife out of my hand and he,” you swallow hard again and your voice shakes when you confess, “he hit me. And he told me he would keep hitting me if I didn’t get better. So I got better, did whatever I could to avoid getting hurt by him. My mom saw the bruises, but she never said a word.” 

You’re getting more confident now that it’s out, you feel strangely relieved. 

“Eventually,” you explain, looking at the ground, “I got good enough to go out on my own. I haven’t heard from them in like almost 10 years now and I don’t think they care.” Shrugging your shoulders, you pick at a piece of grass and apologize again, 

“I’m sorry, Ezra. It wasn’t fair of me to talk to you like that and I hope you can forgive me eventually. I’m not trying to guilt you or anything, I just want you to know why.” 

You chance a look at him and he looks sad, but he still doesn’t open his mouth. You figure he’ll talk when he’s ready and you use his leg for leverage when you hoist yourself up. 

“It’s getting dark so I’m gonna go lay down,” you tell him, “be careful out here.” His dark eyes meet your gaze again and you wish desperately that he would say something, anything. But he doesn’t and you walk back into the tent and get ready for bed alone. 

Once you’ve gotten out of your suit and wiped yourself down, you slip on the long shirt of Ezra’s you’ve been wearing to sleep and lay down, curling in on yourself. Ezra comes back soon after you’re done and you watch silently as he goes through the same motions you did. For a moment, you think he’s not going to get in bed, but he slides up beside you and flips so his back is to you. You turn the lantern off and the tent is thrown into darkness. 

The two of you lay there in silence for a long time before you feel yourself getting weepy again. You know you don’t deserve him to talk to you and that you should give him all the time he needs. But you’re so tired, physically and emotionally, that you find yourself asking him a question. 

“Are you still mad at me?” you whisper, feeling childish for asking but needing to know before you try to sleep. 

Ezra huffs out a breath through his nose, but is otherwise still for a moment and you think you’re too late and he’s already asleep. 

“Turn on the lantern,” he says flatly and you reach over to do as he asks. You don’t particularly want him to look at you right now but if it means he’ll talk you can get over it. When you roll back towards him he’s facing you and he doesn’t look angry. He studies you for a minute, his eyes are moving like he’s searching for something and you want to ask what it is, but you’re already leaps and bounds ahead of where you’d been a few hours ago so you don’t push it. He finally speaks, 

“No, I’m not still upset with you, sweetheart.” You feel your body sag in relief and you want to touch him so badly but you make yourself wait. 

“I do, however, dearly wish you’d shared this hardship with me beforehand so I could’ve helped you better. I know my yelling and sharp remarks could not have eased you in the moment.” 

The guilt you’ve been feeling all day starts to climb back up your throat, restricting your speech momentarily. Ezra takes your silence as permission to continue, 

“Is there a reason you kept this to yourself all these many days and nights?” his eyes are kind as he asks, but he doesn’t wait for you to answer just yet. 

“Have I done anything since we’ve had the pleasure of each other’s company to encourage you to think you could not tell me about it? If there is, please enlighten me so I can avoid such behavior in the future as I swear to you it was never my intent to be anything but worthy of your trust.” You’re shaking your head before he finishes speaking, he  _ has  _ to know it wasn’t him, all this was your fault for keeping it inside. 

“No, no it’s all my fault,” you tell him and you sound pathetic to your own ears but to hell with it, “I’m sorry. I really wanted to forget it ever happened and I guess I thought if I kept it buried deep down it would stay there.” 

You close your eyes tight , determined to keep the tears at bay, but Ezra reaches his hand out, strokes your hair and you can’t help but lean into him. He sighs deeply and swipes his fingers gently across your cheek. 

“Baby,” he starts to say in his low drawl, “you don’t have to hold this turmoil inside your beautiful heart, you can let it out and I’ll catch any pieces that break off, I assure you.” 

His words are too much to handle and the whole dam breaks loose. Your tears come hard and fast and you try to cover your face with your hands to muffle it. But Ezra won’t let you; he gently pries your hands from your face and guides your head to rest against his shoulder so his threadbare T-shirt can soak up your sadness. He wraps his arm around you and presses his hand between your shoulder blades to keep you molded tightly to him. 

“It’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, his voice silky-smooth and tender. Your own arm comes up and around his waist to clutch at him. Ezra keeps talking and you cry harder, feeling a little silly at just how much you missed his voice for one afternoon. 

“You are  _ so _ brave, my precious gem,” he speaks directly into your ear, warm and soothing, “but I’m sorry you had to be. You should never have been forced to endure such pain.” 

His words have the intended effect, coating you in comfort and cocooning you in the safety of his presence. It takes awhile, but your sobs eventually slow until you can push back enough to look up at his face. Ezra smiles down at you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead before he says, 

“I know you’re tired, so I won’t press, but you  _ must _ know I would never harm you. Ever. No matter the circumstances. I love you too much to even think of it.” 

Ezra’s voice cracks as he speaks and you move back to see his eyes look wet, like he wants to cry for you. Leaning up, you kiss his cheek softly and brush your noses together as you promise, 

“I know you wouldn’t.” His exhale of relief fans across your face and you muster a small smile for him. 

“I love you so much,” you breathe out, moving your head to one side so your lips can meet his. His answering kiss feels a little desperate, like maybe he needs reassurance now. You release your iron grip on his side to hold his face in your hand while you pour as much affection into your kisses as you can, and you don’t stop until you feel his body relax against yours, knowing he has to be ready to sleep. 

Shuffling slightly, you lay on your back and guide Ezra’s arm to rest across your hips. He snuggles in closer to you, draping more of his body across yours, effectively trapping you against the cot. His weight isn’t uncomfortable, you prefer to sleep with him holding you down so you can’t float away too far in your dreams, good or bad. His stubble scrapes your chin as he covers your face with more kisses. 

“It’s as I told you earlier, sunshine,” he says, tilting his head to move his lips down to your neck, “there’s not enough time on jobs like these to sample every inch of your skin as I desire to do.” 

Just when you allow your eyes to slip shut, Ezra’s teeth bite down and your sharp inhale of breath causes him to smile against your throat and his tongue darts out to soothe the hurt. Ezra doesn’t let up and you know you’ll have marks tomorrow and you don’t care at all. , Ezra pauses to tell you, 

“Close your pretty eyes, angel, I’ll be here when you wake.” 

…

In the morning, you crack your eyes open to find Ezra sitting up next to you, reading a book. Sighing, you push your face against his hip and you hear him set the book down and his fingers trace the shell of your ear lightly. 

“Morning,” you mumble, arching into his touch. 

“It is indeed,” he replies, his morning voice scratchy and so deep you can feel it reverberate in the pit of your stomach. As much as you’d like to just straddle him and kiss his scruffy beard and forget what you’d been fighting about the day before, you feel like you owe him more. Ezra’s adamant about keeping the lines of communication open and you still feel guilty for closing them off so harshly yesterday. 

You allow yourself another quick minute with your eyes closed and Ezra’s hand caressing your face before you sit up, bending your knees so you can sit sideways and look at him a little easier. Ezra watches you with an eyebrow raised and asks,

“Something on your mind, buttercup?” 

You fold your arms and rest them on the top of your knees before you say, 

“Yeah, actually. I wanted to talk about yesterday if you’re okay with that?” You’re not sure why you suddenly feel so nervous when you’d spilled your guts to him last night and woke up with him still beside you this morning. Ezra turns his head to face you fully and replies, 

“Of course it’s okay, baby. Say whatever you need to, good or bad, you won’t find me stifling your expression.” 

Now that you’ve got his full attention, you’re not exactly sure what it is you want to say. Your fingers fiddle with the edges of your sleeves for a minute before you start, 

“I just still feel bad that I, you know, kept that from you. I know you want me to talk to you about everything and I feel like maybe I let you down by not…” your early-morning brain fog is still dissipating and you struggle with your next word but Ezra is patient, he means it when he says he wants to hear what you have to say. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is I feel like I disappointed you by not being open with you like I should have. And you have every right to be disappointed with me,” you pause mid-sentence when Ezra brushes your foot closest to him with his hand. He nods at you to continue while he calmly strokes his fingers against your skin. 

“I just,” you feel yourself getting teary again and you wish you could stop it, “I want you to know that I’m going to try really hard not to do it again.” You get choked up and cut yourself off, but Ezra’s more than happy to pick up the threads and start untangling them. 

“Your supplication is noted,” he tells you, moving his hand from your foot to stroke up and down your calf, “but I assure you, it is wholly unnecessary for you to continue apologizing when I have already forgiven you.” 

“You have?” you ask, hating how desperate you sound. Ezra’s answering smile is soft yet it pierces your heart so forcefully you know he’s made a permanent crack in your armor that you have no plans to mend. He takes one of your hands in his and links your fingers together before he explains, 

“One look into your soulful eyes, sweet flower, and anything else melts away into unimportance.” You can’t tear your eyes away from him as he leans down slightly to kiss the back your hand. He continues, 

“You must give yourself some credit. It’s no easy task to dig up the past and shed a light on it even for a second, but you were able to do it. You are made of strong stuff and yet you retain your tender heart. Even more unbelievably, you entrust me with its care.” 

You try to swallow your tears back, but a few escape and roll down your face as you rush to tell him, 

“I do I trust you, Ezra.” 

He’s still smiling at you as he pulls your hand, and subsequently you, forward enough that he can place it over his heart. 

“And I trust you in return, moonbeam,” he promises before he uses his leverage to yank you close enough to get his mouth on yours. It’s short, but no less passionate than some of the kisses you’ve shared that lasted hours on end. He pulls back enough to rest his forehead on yours and looks straight into your eyes when he declares,

“I love you, my beautiful, kind, brave,  _ strong  _ goddess. I beg you never to doubt it for even a moment in time.” 

You let your eyes slip shit so his words can wash over you, quelling the guilty feeling you’d woken up with and settling you down to your core. His adamance secures you in your spot, tethering your soul to his so you know you can get comfortable in his affection; he’s not going to release you to the cruel universe on your own. 

“Much as I think we would both enjoy staying on this cot today,” Ezra winks at you as he goes to stand and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips, “if we are to earn enough to indulge in a respite from our toil, we must work at least one more day, don’t you think?” 

After you bid your agreement, he walks over to wear the suits have been hanging and takes his down. You watch for a second as he steps into it and gets the zipper to his belly button before he stops, needing to readjust to put on the suit one-handed. Before he can do that, though, you yelp,

“Wait!” And jump up from your spot to stand in front of him. Ezra does as you ask, but not without raising his eyebrow and starts to ask, 

“What is it you need—“ he’s cut off by the force of your hug that nearly knocks him over, save for the heavy suit anchoring him to the ground. You’re grip on him is tight, but he’s never been one to shy away from any kind of display of affection. 

“Starlight,” he says on an exhale, relaxing into your embrace and holding you back with his arm laying heavy across your shoulders, “did you need some extra reassurance?” His tone is playful and you smile where you’ve pressed your face against his chest. 

“No,” you say and think better of it, “well, yes, but I also wanted to reassure you.” You let your hands wander up and down the expanse of his back, scratching gently along his spine like you know he likes. 

“I would not dare pass judgment when I am rewarded with your illustrious being pushed up against me,” he says, laughing a little, “but what are you trying to convey in particular?” 

“I love you too,” you whisper, going up on your toes for a second to kiss his cheek.

Ezra answers by pushing you apart just enough to duck his head down and kiss you again. He doesn’t let up this time, slowly taking his time to map the inside of your mouth with his tongue. Somehow, you melt further into him and whimper into his mouth, but Ezra doesn’t even pause to acknowledge your noises because he’s too busy wrecking you completely without even taking your clothes off. 

You’re not sure if he’ll step back out of the suit and march you backwards onto the cot or pull away and leave you gasping for more once the work day is done. But either way, you know Ezra’s not going anywhere and if he does, you’ll be following right behind him. 


End file.
